Though it is not my intention to allow this to become a reoccurring motif for my blog, I will once again call attention to my lack of personal drive and motivation. When I set out to begin this blog, it was under the impression that I would be intentional with it. I had decided at some point, during the conception of this site, that I would commit myself to writing on a regular—if not a daily—basis. I should’ve known how unreliable and undependable I tend to be.
I don’t know how other people approach their daily lives, so I lack the ability and wherewithal to assess how [ab]normal my own dealings with the world around me are. I do find that it is difficult to illustrate my own perception in an accurate manner, which is understandable. I assume that this is the case for most people.
In the modern world, particular in the first world/developed countries, we tend to have too much down time. This is not necessarily the case for everyone; comparatively speaking, those of us in the modern west are more apt to experience this phenomenon.
Though I am not exactly complaining about this privilege, it goes without saying that this may not exactly be natural. Never before has there been a time throughout human history where we have been in possession of so much “down time.” Considering the fact that I don’t have a family of my own, I have nothing tying me down. This has it perks, and I prefer life this way for now.
With my current position in life, I have free time on my hands—that I may not always have the opportunity to have. In my spare time, I have things that I like to do. I suppose I have hobbies, and I try to remain relatively healthy. I’m thankful for this spare time on my hands, yet not everything that glitters is gold. The downside of this is that I have to put up with myself on a daily basis. Myself being my thoughts.
Going back to what I stated earlier: I don’t know how other people approach their daily lives. I don’t know what others normally think about. Though I know all too well where my mind wanders off to when I have nothing readily available to distract me from my thoughts, I am unable to shed any light on where the thoughts of others may travel.
I think of death. I’m not saying this to be morbid, edgy, or anything along those lines. The last thing I want to do is be pretentious. I say this in earnest: dying is all I think about.
A few years back, I read a well-written article/blog post from a girl who seemed to conduct her life in a similar vein. Unsurprisingly, the title was “Dying is All I Think About.” As of right now, I am unable to find it. Just off of the top of my head, I feel like that was the title of her work. Being on the brink of my teenage years by that time, it was somewhat of an encouragement to read.
There are a lot of things that I have always wanted to do with my life. As a kid, like many, I had dreams and aspirations of sorts. As I have grown older, those feelings of eagerness and the sense of urgency have lapsed—morphing into mere fragments of what once was. I am noticing myself become more easily discouraged with things.
Scratch that, actually. “Discouraged” may not be the right word that I am looking for. at any rate, it’s only becoming more and more clear to me that my time on this planet is limited. With the advent of social media and the entire world at the end of our finger tips (i.e. our smartphones), this brutal reality can only become more blatantly obvious to us.
I’d love to be able to become the fully idealized version of myself that exists in my day dreams. This probably isn’t possible, unfortunately. This realization can sometimes lead me to internal panic. As a result, I’ll get in a hurry and rush in an attempt try to do so many different things at once. This often leads into unhealthy behavior. I’d imagine that this is why people say it is better to just kick it back, and take it slow, and let the good times roll.
At the very least, I can do my best to accept whatever comes my way. If I do nothing else in my life, I should at least be able, and willing, to explore what it means to be a man. Being carried on by an unwavering resolve, one which exists solely for the good of oneself—which, in turn, is born out of love for others—is all one could hope for.
Not sure what I meant to write or communicate with this post. It probably is a bunch of mumbo jumbo that lacks any sort of relevance for people other than myself. All I want to say is that I am going to do the best I can. That’s all that we can do.
This was written on my phone. I feel like I can write more consistently if I do things this way, as I can’t always be on the computer. I’m gonna try to do this more. Lee me see how that goes.